of forensic anthropology,” he said. “There’s a lot that can be learned from bones. I’ll study the skeleton for you and see what I can turn up.”
“That’s a generous offer,” Emily said, in a tone that was something less than bursting with enthusiasm. “But I wouldn’t presume to—”
“I like mysteries,” he interrupted. “And you have to admit, this hundred-year-old skeleton presents an interesting one.”
“So our skeleton isn’t of recent origin,” Dorothy said. “No wonder Max Zirinsky was looking so relieved.”
“It appears to have been buried with the time capsule, Dot,” Emily explained. “And to have been murdered.”
“Murdered?” Dorothy repeated.
“Let’s keep that fact among ourselves,” Ed said quickly. “At least until Brad can examine it and give us the details.”
“We’ll be delighted to avail ourselves of your expertise,” Dorothy said.
Out of the corner of his eye, Brad could see that Emily was not quite so delighted.
He turned to Ed before she could think of any more excuses to brush him off. “Can you arrange to have the skeleton carefully removed and taken to the hospital morgue after the ceremony?”
Ed frowned as he looked over at the chief of police. Brad understood he was going to have to sell his superior on this use of the department’s resources for this non-case and clearly wasn’t looking forward to the task.
“What the hell,” Ed said. “If anybody tries to give me grief, I’ll just remind them of all the important noses that would be out of joint if you hadn’t been here today. What do you want me to do with this stuff?”
He was holding up the evidence bag with the dagger, coin and spent slug.
“Keep them with the skeleton for now. Could be important to the examination later. That is, if that’s all right with you,” Brad said as he turned to Emily.
She nodded. That told Brad what he wanted to know. She’d accepted his offer of help, despite her suspicions.
While he was doing this favor for her, he should be able to get close enough to discover what made her tick. Once he did, he could decide how best to convince her that she was wrong to try to bring up a child by herself.
That he would convince her, he had no doubt. Had she really been a superstitious person, no amount of logic could have reached her. But she was clearly intelligent and, even better, a woman of science.
She would respond to reason. He just had to find the right approach.
The mayor advanced toward the podium at that moment and took the microphone in hand.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m happy to report that thanks to Dr. Brad Winslow’s expert analysis, we know that the skeleton in our time capsule’s closet is a fascinating artifact that, no doubt, will become an interesting research project for our Historical Society. Now please take your seats, for we are about to lift the time capsule out of its resting place and take a look inside. Who knows what other surprises lie in wait?”
CHAPTER THREE
“YOU LIED TO ME, EMILY BARRETT,” Dorothy whispered in her ear when they had retaken their seats.
“About what?” Emily whispered back.
“Dr. Brad Winslow is anything but just another guy.”
“And you’re saying that because…?”
“Come on, Em. You know perfectly well that man’s the reason we women were given breasts that heave and spines that melt.”
Emily contained her smile. Dorothy had insisted Brad join them on the platform in thanks for his help with the skeleton. He sat with the city council, on the receiving end of a lot of appreciative looks from the women in the audience. There was something about the guy, all right. Not that Emily had any intention of admitting that to her friend.
“Does Ted know you lust after other men like this?” she teased.
“I’m not lusting. I’m merely observing and appreciating. But you, my friend, are in a position to lust away. In case you need reminding.”
Emily was saved from answering when the grinding gears of the crane caught everyone’s attention, and the time capsule was lifted out of the pit.
It was a rectangular, steel-riveted box, about three-by-four feet and at least three feet deep. The rigger on the ground directed the crane’s telescoping arm until the capsule was set gently on the large felt-covered pad Emily had waiting beside the podium.
As the workmen went about removing the lid, everyone on the platform circled them in anticipation.
“We’ll only be able to get a brief glimpse at what’s inside,” the mayor cautioned the crowd as he slipped on thin plastic gloves. “The Historical Society must take possession of the contents so that they can be preserved. But once cataloged, our treasure will be shared.”
When the lid came up, the mayor lifted out the item on the top—a letter wrapped in string and sealed with wax. He unfolded it very carefully and began to read.
“To the Inheritors of Courage Bay, 2004: Inside this first carton, we send you the images of the white-winged ships that sail into our bay bringing us news and goods from distant shores. There are also photographs of our dwellings made of strong wood and brick, with wisps of smoke lifting out of our chimneys from the fireplaces that keep us warm when winter comes. Rising behind our homes you’ll glimpse the steep mountains that for generations have sheltered us from the sorrow and ravages of war. Above them is the sky of pale blue that will bring out scarlet sheets to wrap our sun to sleep tonight. And lastly we send to you our faces—both young and old, fair and less favored, the lines upon all being drawn with life’s deft pen.
“What will these pictures mean to you a hundred years hence? This we cannot fathom. Nor can we know what you will find here in your time. But we can tell you what you would have found in ours.
“This is a beloved world, swept with sunshine, the breath of flowers, the song of birds, forests bounding with wildlife and a people with hearts full of gratitude. We, the guardians of Courage Bay, pledge to care for this good land and for one another. When our history is written, may it be recorded with a light and understanding hand.”
O’Shea slowly raised his head. “This letter I’ve just read to you is signed by the mayor and eleven others. They are identified at the bottom as the twelve men chosen to bury the capsule and set the sundial in place. I’m going to close the letter immediately to protect it from deteriorating. Now let’s have a quick look at those promised pictures.”
The wooden box beneath the letter held at least a hundred pristine photographs, wrapped in cloth. Phoebe Landru, the senior member of the managing board of the Historical Society, had the honor of taking out a few to show them to the crowd.
Emily got a brief glimpse at a picture of the Courage Bay Livery Stable and Feed Store. A blacksmith shop. An apothecary. Then there was a shot of the mountains, heavy with trees that had since been logged. And finally, the
